The new series of the Apprentice is on soon. Pinch me, I could hardly be more excited
The new series of the Apprentice is on soon. Pinch me, I could hardly be more excited.
If you can’t sense the dripping irony of the last paragraph then the rest of this blog definitely isn’t for you. Essentially, I think that the Apprentice has been flogged to death as a reality TV concept and is fast becoming symbolic of the failings of Western business.
In my book, talk is cheap because supply exceeds demand so the 15 motor-mouthed morons the BBC recruits every year – who clearly spend more time on their CVs than jobs – are utterly worthless.
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‘I truly am the reflection of perfection,’ said Ricky Martin, a recruitment manager in this year’s competition. ‘My first word wasn’t mummy, it was money,’ said Shibby Robati, a surgeon in series six. ‘The spoken word is my tool,’ said estate agent Raef Bjayon in 2008. Need I say more?
What baffles me most about the process is, however, its self-defeating nature. The so-called best of British business leave their well-paid jobs to enter a TV lottery which they’re odds-on to lose. To me, that doesn’t show much judgement, and moreover, it means that the contestants look fickle and flighty to future employers. Even if they were to triumph – heaven forbid – the best they could hope for was 15 minutes on Daybreak followed by Z-list oblivion.
‘Even if you win the rat race, you’re still a rat,’ as a wise man said. Who wants their licence fee back?
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